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Bear Update: Dreams of a waking bear

Whistler Black Bear Project Warm spring sunlight filters in through the snow-covered entrance of a large male black bear’s den.

Whistler Black Bear Project

Warm spring sunlight filters in through the snow-covered entrance of a large male black bear’s den. The bear’s eyes open into a cloud of sawdust with dead wood bits and conifer cone scales clinging to its eyelids. His right shoulder aches.

Hoping to rid the facial irritation (from insects) the large male rubs muzzle and bridge against the rough interior of the snag’s (standing dead tree) basal cavity. With enough room only to stretch the front of his body, he rises to haunches and forces two massive forepaws into the sawdust floor while thrusting his snout toward the ceiling of the den. The stiffness of winter’s five-month sleep begins to creep away. He collapses back into a semi-curled position with his head resting at the den entrance.

He awakens one hour later, during the afternoon. The large male can feel the solar pillow of an April day. Almost time. His eyes close and still stupor draws him back into sleep and dreams.

He drifts 15 years back in time, to his first experience with the winter den. Born into a world dark and cold, the male bear soon felt the warmth and security of a large warm mass. Imprinting began. His mother offered rich milk and vast warmth, although he did have to squabble over mother’s resources with his brother and sister. The male bear’s eyes did work after a month but the world was dark for a longer period. Time passed and he grew stronger, as did his brother and sister. The cubs squabbled over everything – where to sleep and who nursed first. Mother always drew them in for sleep and calming.

The large male bear awakes from the dream to a dark cold den. It must be night. He raises his head just enough for more scratching at the irritating hair loss. Sleep pulls him down to the cool sawdust floor, but this time sleep is shallow and he stirs for the next six hours.

He awakes fully to strong sun rays attacking the entrance. Snow has crumpled down into the tree’s basal cavity. He shifts the position of his body enough to rise and stretch the fore legs and shoulders. He slumps down next to the entrance, laying his head on the ramp of snow leading into the den. The large male bear awakens with the urge to walk. Shaking off drowsiness he scratches at the snow with his left forepaw. After three strokes light penetrates the cavity. The scent of fresh spring air fills the large nasal passage of the male’s wet black nose. He could also smell coyote urine.

The entrance opens into a warm, sunny late afternoon. His lethargic state takes over again and he stalls his emergence for two more hours. At twilight the large male bear emerges with an urge that soon outweighs winter’s long stupor. He breaks through and squeezes out of an entrance at the surface of a two-metre deep snow pack. His fall fat is nearly gone and squeezing through the entrance is much easier than entering was last November.

The bear grabs two forepaws full of snow and pulls his body up onto the surface of snow. He shakes, wriggling from nose to tail the massive arrangement of stiff muscles. Standing, he glances back at the splintered, oval-shaped entrance of den that gave him life into a new spring. The only evidence of his use now the hair and fur matted along the entrance. He will never return.

The large male heads out through a sub-alpine ridge overlooking the valley. He hesitates to listen to the perennial hum of another world.

Beneath his plantigrade (flat-footed) paws, the snow is cool and soothing. He takes a few steps; coyote urine is strong. The bear straightens all four legs and pounds the ground, offering challenge to any onlookers. But, his body aches. He moves a few hundred metres down through the closed forest along the ridge where the stable, frozen snow pack prevents his weight from breaking through.

At the uphill side of a mature hemlock the male slumps down. His large rump pushes aside the snow into a dish-shaped depression. Enough traveling; daybed number one. He will make or use 80 more beds this year. Again stupor creeps back to lure him into sleep and dreams.

The bear’s nose moves through the lush tender shoots of grass and clover on a warm spring evening. A female was here – recently. He pursues intersecting scents of familiar and strange bears. Her scent is strong.

Beginning in late May for 2 months the large male bear must find as many mature females as possible to sustain his genetic trait in the population. This "scent-trailing" leads him to challenges with male and female kind. With males he has the edge. Age, size, and experience grant him dominance.

When encountering females with offspring it is different. He will kill cubs to secure their mother for mating. But he has learned that mothers stand fast and determined to defend their cubs. More often he defaults to this challenge, knowing that if he injures or kills the mother that will diminish his opportunity for mating. He pads on in pursuit of the female.

The male bear awakens with the strong urge to mate. It is only April but his testosterone levels are soaring and testicles are swelling. But sustenance is first. He travels 1 km down off the deeper, hard snowdrifts to shallow, patchy snow packs where the scent of emerging skunk cabbage cross his path.

By the third day out of the den the male black bear pauses at the edge of a clearing filled with young trees and large tree stumps. He contemplates his route. He chooses the heavily timbered ridge above. After two hours he arrives above a half frozen pond surrounded by patches of snow and flattened brown vegetation. Yellow shoots of skunk cabbage dot the wetland. He walks through marshy ground nibbling at the 15 to 30-cm folded flowers. He digs slightly at some.

After an hour of moderate feeding he stretches out along the edge of the swamp allowing the cold water to smother insect irritation and trigger life back into his coat. He lifts himself from the water; bits of ice and snow cling to his shedding guard hairs. He pads slowly over to depressed vegetation between a log and young 20-foot conifer. With a burst of energy he rears, grabs the trunk of the tree with both forepaws and drags the branches all over his shoulders, neck, and face. After 30 seconds he releases the giant conifer comb and lowers to all fours. The tree springs back and forth.

The large male slumps onto the ground with his head cradled against the log. He stretches out his hind legs scratching another depression into his earth. At the end of his third day, daybed number two. He surrenders to sleep and the dreams of females and berries.

Anyone with questions about black bears or who wants to report sightings of mothers with cubs or yearlings (one year old cubs) may contact mallen_coastbear@direct.ca or call 604-902-1660.

Thanks to Pique Newsmagazine for sponsorship of these columns.